Safety IX
by Jadzia
Summary: Sequel to Safety VIII


Fandom: XF Pairing: M/K Rating: PG-13 

Archive: Yes to everyone who asked already. 

Disclaimer: They're still CC's. 

Series: Obviously :-) The first six parts can be found at http://members.theglobe.com/RatboyX Part VII and VIII are not up yet (shame on me) but I'll be happy to send them to you. 

I'm sorry you had to wait for so long, but the constant nagging of a few certain people (you know who you are *glare*) finally made me write this. I'm flattered *G* And, dare I say it, part X is almost finished, too. 

Thanks to Nia for absolutely amazing and awesome beta. *smoooooooooooooch* *G* 

Any remaining mistakes are mine. Feel free to tell me. If you liked it, feel free to tell me, too *g* at gdukat_42@yahoo.com 

******************* SAFETY IX 

By Jadzia ******************* 

I like fires. They always give me the illusion of being home. Not a real home; I don't even know what that feels like. 

No, an illusion. 

If I had a home someday, which is highly improbable anyway, I always picture it with a big fire place. I can see the sparks flying, hear the crackling, smell the comfort. It makes me a little warmer. 

On the outside, at least. 

And it has another big advantage. It won't catch me staring at it. 

Because when I'm not watching the fire, I'm watching Mulder. He has almost curled into a ball on his sleep-couch, his hair tousled, the fire casting a flickering golden glow upon his face - I can't look at him any longer or I won't be able to look away again. 

That's just like me - I must have something this beautiful nearby to remind me of all the ugliness my life is made of. Otherwise, it wouldn't seem this terrible. 

But that would be boring, of course. 

At night, I wonder how everything would have gone if we weren't enemies. If I had never betrayed him, if he had never beaten me up. 

Fruitless thoughts, I know, but I can't help it. 

Not at night. 

We could have been friends. 

Sometimes, in moments like this, it feels so good to be with him. Warm and peaceful and not alone. 

It doesn't feel right, though. It can't feel right, because it's so different when he's awake. When we're together with our eyes open, the tension flares to life immediately. We tiptoe around each other, rarely talking, so noone can say something wrong. 

It's getting on my nerves. 

I know it's necessary probably, because everything is still so fragile. I think we're both afraid to rip everything apart if we say more than three words to each other. Everything's so strained, sometimes I don't know how much longer I can stand it without screaming, or running away. 

Or both. 

He knows how difficult it is. 

I promised myself to stay a little, and I meant a little. I knew I wouldn't be able to stand this for long, and I was right. 

Being confined to a place as small as this with nothing around except snow, and snow, and, you guessed it, a little more snow. 

And him. 

Not being able to speak my mind. 

Being together with the man I adore but will never have. 

And that hurts me, and being hurt makes me angry, because I can't afford being hurt. Anger keeps me focused, focused on myself, and that doesn't make relationships easy. 

Nothing about me makes relationships easy. 

Nothing I do, nothing I say - and the funny thing is, I should have known. 

I made my choice, and I'm sure there's a "no friends or more serious relationships"-paragraph in my Consortium-contract, so I really should have known. 

I didn't think about it, though. 

I never wasted a single thought on loneliness. 

I liked being alone. 

By myself. 

Not pestered by others. 

Now, I can only think of how short-sighted I've been, back then. Young and stupid. 

So very stupid. 

I thought I'd made the right choice, and somehow I was aware that this choice would change my life, but I was sure that it was what I wanted, nonetheless. 

The right choice at the right moment. 

I was positive. 

Positive that I would never regret my decision as a whole. 

Yes, I knew there would be hard times, exhaustion, pain, difficult missions; I knew I would have to kill - 

It bothered me at the beginning, but... if your own life's at stake, such decisions become quite easy. 

Easier still where double-crossing bastards are concerned - if I had to kill someone like myself, I wouldn't hesitate a second. 

There's a thought. 

The innocents, though - no use to think about that now. 

I was the survivalist. Old habits die hard. 

If I had to work for them to live - so be it. 

Everything else came second. That made me perfect for the job. 

This fire burning inside me, fighting not to be extinguished under any circumstances. I did what I had to do. 

No matter what. 

That's why I'm scared. 

Scared because, when I look at him, everything else ceases to be. 

Scared because he is the fuel that keeps me going. 

Scared because, if I could go back in time, and some nice pink fairy would offer me only one day with him, one day *he* wouldn't regret - I would give it all up. 

Pink fairies don't exist. 

And he will never respect me. 

The things I've done will always stand between us. 

It's funny... things I've done to save my life have destroyed the possibility to be with the man who makes me go on. 

Just thinking about it makes me dizzy. 

Now, I try to see a reason for living, but I can't. 

I'm waiting. 

Waiting for the moment when I'll *know* that he will never want me. 

Hope is evil. 

Hope makes me stay here, makes me admire his tender beauty at night, makes me a prisoner behind a wall of tension, too thick to break through. 

Old habits die hard. 

But not for much longer. 

Not much longer before I'll look at him a last time. 

Not much longer before I'll go and set him free. 

Better sooner than later. 

He's beautiful, really. 

I will always remember him like this, always. 

I will always remember how he felt, how he smelled, how - 

Maybe I'd better go to bed. 

The fire has died. 

********* THE END ********* Nov. 1999 


End file.
